


Spring Cleaning

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Community: help_japan, Domestic Violence, Gen, Revenge, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 15:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fiona takes on a case and aces it, all without Sam and Michael's help.  In part due to her completely killer smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring Cleaning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for drkittym for help_japan!

Fiona Glennane has the kind of smile that can cut through glass. It's a look that drives away as many people as it pulls in.

It is, without a doubt, the scariest smile in all of Dublin. "You have a bewitchment, girl," Fiona’s mother once said. "Scaring people as much as ye do. Best be careful with yourself. Ye never know where ye might land."

Fiona has always been careless with it, though. In fact, she uses it on every man she meets as a way to hook them in, to wrap them in her charm and tuck them in the filament of her web for later use. If some called her predatory, others called her a genius.

At least that's what they believed. Fiona knew she was an asset. The best kind. The kind that could take care of herself.

***

A perfect example? One morning, she went jogging, her MP3 player blasting a steady stream of The Pogues in her ears, when she came upon a little girl in a pale pink dress, wandering the street alone. Her soft spot was (and would always be) lost little girls; she immediately ran off the beaten path to help her.

"What's wrong?" she asked crisply. She knew that if you treated a child like a child you would never get anywhere with them.

"My mommy's sleeping and she won't wake up." The little girl's tremulous voice told Fiona volumes about what she might find; fully braced, she and the girl jogged back to a beat-up car parked off the main road. The door was open, and the child’s mother sat, slumped, behind the wheel; Fi reached in to check the woman’s pulse; it was there, strong heavy.

"What's your mommy's name?"

"Shannon."

"Shannon," Fiona called loudly. She called the woman’s name until she came about. Fiona quickly realized that the woman hadn’t passed out from pills or an illness; the source of her injuries were a bruised jaw, a black eye. And, judging from her actions, a concussion.

"Don't hit me," she whimpered. "Please."

With that, Fi knew she wouldn't be able to remain detached from the situation emotionally. "My name is Fiona. I'm here to help. Tell me everything you can about what's going on." Her smile was sharp as glass, but it had a friendly edge.

The woman told her everything.

***

She adopted the name easily; Diana, a fast-food worker both vulnerable and lonely. The bastard who had abandoned the woman and her daughter, beaten and starved them, worked as the manager there. It didn't take long for Fi to get on his good side, to pull the trembling waif act and end up in the back room with his roofie-filled coffee (drink from an open container? How stupid did she think he was?). She picked his filing cabinet open and replaced some crucial documents with some carefully edited ones that suggested he was skimming hundreds of dollars from the company's til every month. If everything went well, he would be fired and go away for a very long time.

Predictably, he reacted to her vulnerability act by stuffing his hand down her blouse when she faked a swoon. She knew every single move would be captured on the miniature camera hidden in her purse. And when he got a tad too forward, well...she grabbed him by the wrist, wrenched it behind him and shoved him face-first onto the desk. Then she held a knife to his throat and grinned her sharp grin. "I heard you like beating girls," she said, lightly scraping his trembling throat. "Naughty boy. Why don't you pick on someone who's half your size for once?"

***

While they hauled the bastared off, she passed her client two hundred bucks - straight from Michael's last payment to her. It would be enough for the two of them to eat well, and get back on their feet again.

The woman's gratefulness she carried with her in a cloud of happiness, all the way to her meeting with Michael and Sam that afternoon.

Sam frowned at her curiously. "What's with the face?"

"Oh nothing...I just did a little bit of spring cleaning." She smiled. "How are you for lock-picks Sam?" he gulped.

Michael eyed her over the table and she smiled - a genuine, serene smile. "Yes?"

"I worry when you smile like that," he confessed, and returned to their next case.

THE END


End file.
